Free Fall
by Sulky Shadow
Summary: There's nothing worse than hurtling towards something and knowing you have no hope of stopping.
1. Doubt

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

* * *

**Doubt**

It's the day after he's saved the world that it starts.

Telling his parents about everything he's been keeping secret for the past two years is the equivalent of lifting two hundred pounds worth of bricks off of his shoulders. It's such a relief to not have any more unspoken words between them. If he was still Danny Phantom instead of Danny Fenton, he would have floated to the outer reaches of the atmosphere and stayed there watching the stars for days. But he is still a human, and isn't capable of flight at the moment.

There are too many hugs to count once they return home, and if he wasn't as relived as the rest of them that the plan had worked, Danny might have felt smothered with the amount of attention he was receiving. Sam isn't leaving his side, either—not that he wants her to.

Eventually, of course, the exhaustion of the whole saving the world from utter demolition fiasco hits them like a cement wall and it is collectively decided that it would be best to set aside the celebration in favor of some sleep.

The house is relatively silent as the Fentons set about to get ready for bed. There is still a bit of tension in the air that is residue from the previous day, but it is ignored, pushed aside and forgotten with the allure of sleep so tempting and distracting.

Jack and Maddie wave at their two children before retiring to their room, but don't say a word. They haven't spoken since everyone had left. No one has.

Jazz walks with him up the stairs and stops next to him when they reach the door to his room. She smiles kindly, silently saying how proud she is of her little brother without being annoying or embarrassing, and kisses his forehead before turning away and walking down the hallway.

The click of her bedroom door closing echoes quietly in the deserted hallway.

Danny shifts uncomfortably on the spot. He's been crowded by so many people today and bombarded with so many questions that he's not sure what to do with himself now. Only the ringing in his ears breaks the silence, and that just seems to make the lack of chatter and laughter in the background even more noticeable.

He turns to his bedroom door and quietly pushes it open. The hinges don't squeak, and the silence of the house is left unbroken.

His bedroom is just as he left it two days ago—not that it should have changed in any way—but it feels almost foreign to him.

The tidiness of the room—as tidy as a teenage boy's room can be—is not natural anymore. Not to him. Because he knows that this room holds far too many secrets now. There is a spare thermos secured underneath the bed frame and a stash of emergency notes in the desk drawer with various excuses of where he would be going if he had to leave at a moment's notice to fight a ghost.

With all of his secrets revealed, Danny feels like his room should be a mess: filled with ghost hunting weapons thrown haphazardly into the corners and first aid boxes kicked under the bed for later use. The "forgotten" pile of homework should be sitting on the desk, not stuffed into a backpack and under the bed. While Danny knows that it will take a while for things to settle down and for people to adjust to this new sense of "normal," he can't help but want to speed up the process.

Because there's no point in pretending that none of this has happened, right?

There's nothing left to hide. There are no more words left unsaid between him and his parents.

This couldn't have been better, Danny thinks to himself. He's glad this has happened and regrets that he didn't tell them sooner. To think of all the trouble that could have been avoided if he hadn't been so afraid.

Danny pulls his shirt over his head and prepares for bed. He's just as exhausted as the rest of his family—probably even more so since he was the one under all of that stress to save the world. But it was worth it with this outcome. He can finally breathe easily again.

He'd forgotten what that was like.

But thirty minutes later, Danny is staring at his ceiling and still waiting for his body to run out of juice and shut down. Maybe he forgot to unpack his emergency batteries before going to bed.

He sighs and sits up.

Perhaps a cold glass of water will do him some good and distract his brain from pinging hundreds of thoughts a second around his head.

The stillness of the house is even more unnerving as Danny quietly pads down the hallway. He feels as though he is trying to sneak out of the house without his parents knowing, which is a stupid thought, since he has no reason to hide his escape if his parents know where he's going. And it isn't like he's going out, anyway: he's going into the kitchen to get some water. There's nothing suspicious about that.

When he arrives at the top of the stairs, Danny pauses, unsure. The stairs are creaky and terribly noisy when stepped on: they will probably alert his parents of his departure.

No, Danny shakes his head. He is not sneaking. He is not leaving. He is walking downstairs to get a glass of water. Why must he continually remind himself of this? Danny shakes his head again and begins his descent. Despite his reminder that he is not trying to hide anything, he still flinches and hesitates when he hears the top step groan. It takes a few seconds for him to re-remind himself of his non-suspicious goal and continue on down the stairs.

When he rounds the corner to the kitchen, he sees, to his surprise, that his parents are already sitting at the table, hands curled around mugs that appear to be filled with some steaming drink, tea perhaps.

They both look up at him when they hear his feet hitting the tiled floor while he walks towards the sink.

"Oh, Danny," Jack says, surprised. "What are you doing down here so late at night?"

"You should be in bed, sweetie," Maddie agrees.

Danny smiles at them both and pauses on his way to collect a cup from the cupboard before pulling out a chair and sitting down with his parents at the table instead. He can always get a drink later. "I could tell you the same thing," he jokes.

Maddie smiles and Jack laughs. "He's got us there, Mads," he says.

Danny chuckles for a brief moment before refocusing on his parents. "You two can't sleep, either?" he asks.

Maddie shakes her head. "We're too wound up. Just like you," she says.

"We're just so proud of you, son," Jack beams. "Any parent would lose sleep after what you did."

Danny blushes and quickly looks down at the table before either on of his parents notice. He rubs his neck awkwardly. "Anyone would have done it," he mutters. Surely they don't think he deserves praise because he was the only one who was able to do anything. It wasn't anyone else's fault that he was the one with the ghost powers.

"But that's the point, son," Jack continues. "You were the only one who _could_ do anything."

"Saving the world is a lot of responsibility," Maddie continues. "And you're just sixteen. It's the fact that you stepped up to the plate and did what no one else could do that makes us so proud."

This seems to be his cue to look back up, and Danny is greeted with his parents' beaming smiles. They're contagious, and he can't keep one off of his face for long. His face will probably be sore in the morning with how big his grin feels.

Jack stares at him for a few seconds before his face lights up. The smile doesn't fade, though. "Oh! Danny, while we're here, could you explain _how_—" His voice stops mid-sentence and he shuts his eyes and reaches under the table. "Ow!"

Maddie furrows her brow at her husband and mutters a quick, "Not now." to him before returning her gaze to her son and smiling sweetly. Only now the smile does not look as genuine: it looks pained, forced, uncomfortable.

The mirth is gone from the air: evaporated faster than water in a volcano.

Jack sits up again and paints a smile on his face that matches his wife's.

Now Danny knows that they're both hiding something.

Danny frowns. "What?" he asks. "What do you want to know, Dad?"

Jack's eyes light up and he opens his mouth to respond.

"It's nothing important at the moment, Danny," Maddie interrupts. She shoots a look at her husband, and he shuts his mouth and nods.

"It's nothing, son," he agrees. But Danny knows he's lying. His dad and mom are both biting their tongues in an attempt to keep their mouths shut: the question his dad is forbidden to ask is one to which they both want the answer.

Danny looks between his parents and frowns.

Danny knows he's not the brightest of students—especially with the amount of school he skips—and he can be oblivious sometimes, but he's not stupid. What he lacks in intellect, he makes up for in instinct. And instinct has saved his life on more than one occasion.

He looks at his mother first.

She is sitting stiffly, which means she's probably uncomfortable, and her back is rigid. Her eyes keep darting anxiously to her husband beside her, and she fiddles with her hands—something Danny knows is a nervous tick of hers—when she looks back at her son. She's obviously trying very hard to keep her mouth closed by biting her lower lip and fighting a grimace so that she does not appear troubled by the blatant tension that hangs like a storm cloud in the room. She is failing miserably.

He looks at his father next.

Jack is much more obvious: he is squirming in his seat restlessly and looking everywhere but at his wife and son. He keeps licking his lips, and it looks like he is trying to occupy his mouth so he doesn't blurt anything else out.

A cold stone settles in Danny's stomach as he realizes what's happening: his parents are keeping secrets from him.

He looks down and sighs. He had hoped that they were past secrets now that he had no more to hide. Obviously, he had been wrong. But maybe his parents just need some time to adjust to the fact that their son is different. Maybe they're just reorienting themselves to this understandably bizarre lifestyle.

Danny's never doubted his family before.

It's the day after he's saved the world that it starts.


	2. Unspoken

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

* * *

**Unspoken**

It's a week after he's saved the world that things start to get worse.

In order to celebrate the world being protected, everyone's excused from any concerns or obligations for a few day so families can absorb that the catastrophe has passed and spend a bit more time with their loved ones.

Danny spends every day with Sam and Tucker. He's only home to eat breakfast with Jazz and dinner with his parents.

The tension that began after his secret came out is still palpable in the house. His parents do their best to ignore it, but Danny can still feel the unasked question burning their throats. He doesn't know what the question is or why they so desperately want to ask it, but he knows that it's slowly carving a hole into the middle of their relationship, and he hates it.

The Monday after everyone has gone back to their regular schedule, Danny decides that maybe Sam and Tucker can help him with his problem.

"Guys," he starts, after they've sat down at their table to start eating lunch. But then he realizes that he doesn't know what he wants to say. He doesn't know if he should ask for help on a problem he's not sure really exists.

Tucker sets down his sandwich in favor of looking his friend over. "You okay, Danny?" Danny realizes he must look pretty bad if Tucker is choosing to talk to him instead of eating.

Sam slings her arm around his shoulders and leans forward so she can look him in the eye. "You look worried, Danny." She brings her other hand up to touch his cheek. Both she and Tucker are sharing the same look of concern. He must look really bad, then. "What's wrong?"

Danny shakes his head. He still doesn't know what to say.

"I'm sure it's nothing," he mutters to himself while he keeps his gaze fixed upon his tray of food. "My parents have just been acting a bit weird since I stopped the asteroid."

Sam smiles and Tucker nods before picking his lunch up again and resuming eating. The problem must not be that bad.

"I'm sure they're just adjusting to the fact that their son is a superhero, Danny," Sam says with an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder. "There's nothing to get too worked up about. Just give them some time."

There's a point in what Sam is saying, and Danny nods. "Yeah, you're right. I'm just over thinking this, aren't I?"

But he doesn't look up from the table.

* * *

Despite Sam and Tucker's encouragement, Danny still can't help but feel like he's a freak to be examined when his parents look at him.

They don't make any comments about him, but he can feel their eyes on him when they think he can't see. And when he catches them in the act of staring at him, they look away quickly with a flash of guilt on their faces. He feels like they're walking on cracked glass when they're around him, and if they make one wrong move, everything will shatter and hurt everyone nearby.

If he didn't need to consume food to stay alive, Danny would probably skip out on dinner completely. But, as it stands, he does need to eat food on a regular basis, and that's the sole reason why he finds himself at the table every night, trying to make small talk with a new family.

"Danny, you're home early," Maddie says from the sink when he walks into the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah," he answers, scanning the room and noticing that no one else has come down yet.

"Your dad and sister should be here in a few minutes. I'm almost finished."

Danny nods, before he remembers that she isn't looking. "Okay."

He sits down at the table and looks around the room. Unfortunately, his search yields no results or ideas on a topic to discuss. He used to be so good at making small talk; what happened? Maybe it's the fact that he's trying to make small talk with his own family that's making him pause. Because what family is so unfamiliar with one another that small talk is required to start a conversation? He should be able to just say, point blank, that he feels uncomfortable with the fact that his parents are keeping secrets from him. But he can't.

"So, Danny…what did you do today?" The fact that she has to pause and think of something to say to him is testament to how bad things have become.

"Nothing much."

No, Danny tells himself. That's wrong. He should be telling her about how he went with Sam and Tucker to go see a movie, and that afterwards they ate lunch at the Nasty Burger and talked about how he could approach his parents and tell them that he feels uncomfortable talking to them for some reason.

This is the perfect opportunity to bring the problem into light.

But Danny keeps his mouth shut.

"Oh, okay." Maddie leaves the unspoken question hanging in the air. They could probably decorate a Christmas tree with how much isn't being said anymore. And while Danny may not hate Christmas anymore, he certainly isn't fond of it, either.

The silence slowly becomes louder as it stretches on.

If only Jazz was here, she always knows how to defuse a situation. Plus, she's known about his secret almost as long as Tucker and Sam have; surely she must know something about breaking the ice to those who have just discovered it.

But Jazz can't fight all of his battles: that's cowardly and unbecoming of someone who has saved the world.

Danny can feel the nothingness of the void growing and consuming more and more, just like it does every day. Eventually, he knows, it will devour everything that he has worked so hard to build and create, and he will be left alone in an endless oblivion.

"How was you day?" he finally asks, when the emptiness in the room becomes too much.

"Uneventful," Maddie answers. Even her one-word response sounds forced, like it's painful to talk to her own son.

The stillness floods the room again, and neither Danny nor Maddie attempts to tread above it, instead preferring to have it fill their lungs and gag them.

It feels like an eternity before Jack's blundering footsteps sound from the basement. And while it breaks the awkward strain that Danny and Maddie have put between themselves, the overall tension between him and his parents only builds now that they're alone in the same room. The fact that that painful conversation took place in this very room doesn't help, either.

"Oh," Jack pauses at the top of the stairs and stares at Danny for a few seconds before continuing to the table. "Hi, Danny. You're home early."

Danny nods, but doesn't say anything in return.

The pressure in the room builds, and Danny imagines that this is what it must be like to be in a pressure cooker: the air itself is stifling.

Jazz doesn't come down for another ten minutes, by which time Maddie has finished cooking and has already served the steaming food onto everyone's plates—although none of them have touched the food, instead just staring at it as if it holds the answer to the question that will never see the light of day.

Jazz pauses and looks at everyone questioningly before sitting down and starting up a conversation up about how well her college paper is going. She makes it look so easy. Danny quietly glares at her and clenches his fists. What is wrong with him that makes it so difficult for him to have a normal conversation with his own _parents_?

Dinner itself takes too long, in Danny's opinion. He pushes his food around on his plate while he listens to his family eat. And as soon as people begin to stand to take their plate to the sink, that unnerving tension that has become a well-known entity drapes itself across everyone's shoulders again as if it was never gone. No one mentions it, though. No one pays any attention to the wrongness of the situation. In fact, no one speaks a word.

He should probably ask his own questions now, while the room is still and everyone is together, because he doesn't keep secrets anymore, right?

But the quietude persists, and Danny has to gather the courage to even open his mouth and speak his mind.

When he finally does, he lifts his head to address his family.

But he's alone.

* * *

"Did you talk to your parents and get everything sorted out?" Sam asks the next day when they meet up at the arcade.

Danny glances between his two friends, at the identical looks of concern painted there, and realizes that he can't bear to see the worry on his friends' faces. The sight makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. He can't make himself put his two best friends through that anymore. They were worried enough when they thought he was dead; he can't drag another one of his problems over their heads now, too.

"Yeah," he lies, swallowing thickly. "Everything's fine now."

But he's wrong.

It's a week after he's saved the world that things start to get worse.


	3. Wrong

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

* * *

**Wrong**

It's three weeks after he's saved the world that he understands.

Danny's at the mall with Sam and Tucker when Skulker attacks.

While everyone scrambles to vacate the vicinity, Danny frantically searches for a place to hide so he can transform into Phantom. But since everything is in chaos, it's impossible to maneuver through the crowd and sneak away. Lead sits in his stomach as a chill runs down his spine. What is he supposed to do?

"Danny," Tucker hisses. "What are you doing? Change already!"

It hits him then, like a block of cement, that he can go ghost in front of everyone. It's not a secret anymore that he's the town's hero.

Duh; of course he can change. What's he thinking? He's such an idiot. Danny shakes his head. "Right. Sorry," he mutters before he transforms. Without further ado, he races off to prevent Skulker from creating any more damage to the property. Hopefully he hasn't caused too much harm while Danny was floundering around like an octopus on land.

"Ah, whelp. I'm glad you're so eager to be caught today," Skulker jeers when he sees Danny.

"Yeah, right," Danny scoffs, slowing to hover in front of his adversary. "I'm pretty sure you have that backwards. Did I hit you too hard in the head last time?"

Skulker squints and responds by firing off a blast towards his face.

Danny flips up and sends his own shots back at him, but Skulker just holds up his arm and creates a force-field-like projection, which effectively disintegrates the blasts.

Skulker smirks at the annoyed look on Danny's face. "Impressed? Maybe even jealous, perhaps?"

Danny raises an eyebrow at him. He's joking, right? "Me, jealous of a hunk of metal encasing a slimy frog?" he laughs. "Nah, I think I'm perfectly content."

Skulker scowls, aims three rockets at him, and fires. "I think you'll find that I am much more than just a _hunk of metal_."

Zooming towards the ceiling doesn't seem to be as effective of a tactic, Danny realizes, as the rockets quickly adjust their flight pattern to follow him. Looks like he'll be doing this the hard way, then.

Seeing as they're in the food court, Danny doesn't have a whole lot of space to maneuver, which only makes his job of avoiding the rockets speeding after him while also preventing them from colliding into any of the surrounding tables and chairs even more difficult. Skulker seems to be very aware of his struggle, since his smirk has grown to a full-blown smile. Danny can't remember a time when Skulker looked this pleased.

If he weren't sure that they would explode and destroy the surrounding area, Danny would just turn and shoot the rockets with his ectoblasts. But that would definitely be counterproductive to his objective. If only he could get outside, it would be so much easier to fight. Maybe that was why Skulker chose to confront him here, Danny muses.

Danny barely manages to swerve to avoid a concession stand, and knows he has to figure something out soon. He's getting tired.

A crash sounds from behind, and Danny almost collides with the rockets he jerks around so quickly.

The weightless feeling of relief at what he sees almost makes him fall out of the air.

It's his parents. They've crashed the Fenton RV into the side of the building.

"We're here, Danny boy!" his dad bellows, lugging a bazooka-like object from the car.

Panic constricts Danny's chest again when he sees the weapon. If his dad shoots that, everything will be destroyed.

"Dad! Don't!" he yells as he speeds past them. He can't get too close, unless he wants his parents to become targets. But he has to let them know what's happening.

"Jack! What are you thinking? If you shoot that, you'll destroy the rest of this wall!" Danny hears his mother yelling. Thank goodness she has realized the same thing.

"Back out!" Danny shouts as he passes them again. The rockets are gaining on him; he can practically feel them nipping at his feet. "I'll have the rockets follow me out!"

"Great idea, son!" Jack lumbers over to the driver's seat and throws the vehicle into reverse before slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. Somehow, he manages to not hit the wall a second time.

Danny doesn't waste any more time; he throes every last bit of energy he has into speeding towards the hole in the wall. The rockets are less than a second behind him. Skulker, he notes absentmindedly, seems to have vanished. He'll have to hunt the ghost down later.

As soon as he and the rockets are clear of the building, Danny shoots upwards and turns so he is flying backwards. Staring at rockets that are inches from him and getting closer by the second is probably the most terrifying thing he's ever seen. But he swallows his fear and shoots at the rockets.

The resulting explosion sends him hurtling towards the parking lot, and he isn't able to become intangible before he smashes into the asphalt. Searing pain races up his arms and down his back as his suit is torn away and his skin rubbed raw. And he is pretty sure he has cracked open his skull with how much it's throbbing.

Once he's stopped skidding, Danny takes a moment to catch his breath before even considering attempting to stand again.

"Danny!"

"Danny, are you okay?"

"Man, that was _awesome_!"

The voices muddle together for a few seconds before he can separate them out and identify each of the people speaking.

Tucker, Sam, and his parents are all sprinting towards him. His mom reaches him first.

"Oh, honey," she gasps. "Are you all right?"

Danny blinks. Is he all right? He can't really feel anything except pain at the moment. But at least he can feel that, right? Is that a good thing?

Luckily, she doesn't seem to care about his response, because she pulls out some bandages from one of her pockets and begins wrapping up his arms and torso. Danny can't lift his head to see the damage, but he figures it probably isn't anything good, since his mom winces after she finishes tying off the bandages.

He tries to ask, but he can't seem to make his mouth work. All he manages is a muffled grunt. Maddie seems to understand, though, because she explains, "You've already bled through the material."

Is that a bad thing? He can't remember.

"We need to get you home. Jack, help me carry him to the car," she says.

"Sure thing, Mads."

Apparently, Sam, Tucker, and his dad have caught up. Danny realizes he can see his friends' faces staring down at him with concerned looks. But they know that he's suffered much worse, and don't follow his parents to the car. Danny always goes to see them after he's recovered from his injuries. Tucker and Sam already know they'll probably have lunch together at the Nasty Burger tomorrow.

While he's being carried over to the Fenton RV, Danny's head clears some. It's times like these where he appreciates that the ectoplasm in his body allows him to heal fairly quickly. By the time he's in the backseat, the world has stopped swirling like water tunneling down a drain, and he can clearly make out his surroundings.

"I can strap myself in," he says, reaching over to pull down the seatbelt.

His mother blinks in shock. "How are you…? Weren't you just—?"

"I heal quickly," he explains. And that's the end of that.

Maddie gets a strange look on her face, like she's been told a complicated riddle, but doesn't say anything more and slides into the back seat next to him.

She waves her hand when he opens his mouth to protest and says, "I'm going to replace your bandages. Fast healing or not, it's not good to let them sit and infect your wounds."

Danny nods and permits his mother to unwrap the blood-and-ectoplasm-soaked material from his limbs and torso.

The jostling of the vehicle combined with the severe blood loss leaves Danny lightheaded, and he leans his head against the cool window to soothe his throbbing headache and close his eyes to avoid vomiting in the car.

He doesn't open his eyes again until they're home, and he is left disorientated for a moment as he blearily watches his parents scramble to exit the vehicle. They both hurry around to his side and gently pull him out of the RV before shuffling him towards the front door. He's too dazed to tell them that he can walk on his own.

Almost as soon as the front door is shut, Jack and Maddie are letting go of him and calling over their shoulders, words clashing like swords in the air when they don't match, making excuses and explaining halfheartedly why they must suddenly go into the lab.

Danny focuses on not falling over from the sudden lack of support and nods obediently, trying to keep from squinting in suspicion at their actions. His parents have been jumpy these past few weeks, anyway, but Danny can't help but think that they are even more paranoid than usual on this particular day.

Maybe it is because they just partook in their first ghost fight with their son.

Yeah, that's it, nothing more to it.

Danny takes a deep breath and settles down at the kitchen table. This is all new to him, too. He's just coming down from the adrenaline rush, that's all. There's no need to overthink his parents' behavior when he has no other experiences similar to this to base his knowledge off of.

Jack's excited voice carries through the door leading into the basement. There's a loud hushing sound soon after.

What could they be doing down there? Jack had been particularly antsy on the drive back home, but that could have just been adrenaline, too. Maddie had looked excited, as well. Is it the fact that they have just helped their son protect the town that has left such an impression? Possibly. But that doesn't—

Water, Danny tells himself. He needs a glass of cold water. Being curious about his parents' behavior is one thing, but questioning their actions is something else entirely.

"Look, Mads!" comes Jack's muffled voice.

"Shh!" Maddie answers.

Danny pushes his chair away from the table as loudly as possible. To drown out the noise his parents are making or inform his parents that he is within hearing range, he doesn't know. Maybe both.

Almost as an apology, Danny tries to remain as quiet as possible as he makes his way over to the sink. The cups are in the cupboard directly above it, and, Danny notices as he reaches for one, his hands are shaking.

Residual adrenaline, nothing more.

A muted exclamation sounds from behind the lab door, and Danny jolts back to himself as the icy cold water splashes his hand. He transfers the glass from his shaking hand to his slightly more stable one and continues filling his cup.

Another excited voice rises from the depths of the house. What could they possibly be—?

The sound of splashing water shakes Danny from his thoughts, and, when he looks for the source of it, he realizes he's overfilled his cup and the water is now crashing noisily into the basin below.

It takes a moment to turn the water off with his hand shaking so badly, but, after a few seconds of fumbling, he manages. He doesn't even bother returning to the table to drink it; he just puts the glass to his lips and throws his head back.

Most of the water bypasses his mouth and runs down his neck instead. Danny shivers as the freezing feeling runs down his front.

He slams down the cup with more force than necessary and turns his back to the sink before leaning back on the edge of the counter.

There's a crash and another yell.

Maybe he should go check up on them. It sounds like they've discovered something important, at least.

Danny gets to the door and has his hand on the handle before he manages to stop himself.

What is he doing? Does he not trust his parents enough to think that they can handle whatever it is they are doing on their own? What kind of son is he if he is questioning his parents' motives? Surely they don't need his help.

As quietly as possible, Danny opens the door to the basement. He can't make anything out in the dim light. His parents' voices are louder now without the barrier between them, but they are still hushed enough that he can't make out what they're saying. He does manage to catch the words "examine" and "interesting" several times. But that's hardly a clue about what his parents are looking at. Obviously, they found something remarkable if they're this eager to look at it.

But he really shouldn't go down into the basement to spy on his parents; that's wrong. Danny wants to be as honest as possible with his parents, even if they aren't with him. Besides, his dad can never keep his mouth shut at the dinner table when he's really worked up: if nothing else, he will be told then, and in great detail.

Danny almost falls forward as his foot hits the ground that is suddenly no longer descending.

He's walked into the basement.

Oh. Well, it seems he hasn't made a very convincing argument after all.

Danny peeks around the corner and sees his parents' forms outlined in the portal's eerie green light, hunched over their examination table in the center. There's a tray with an assortment of liquid-filled bottles, but it's impossible to tell how many there are or what their purpose is without getting closer.

"Look at the pattern, Jack," Maddie whispers, leaning in closer. "It's like nothing we've seen before."

"That's because we haven't had the opportunity to see this before, Mads," Jack answers. His expression looks almost crazed with the dim lighting, and Danny shivers involuntarily.

He shifts closer in hopes of seeing what his parents are doing, but he makes sure to keep enough distance that they don't notice him. He's not sure why, but Danny doesn't want his parents knowing he's watching them.

He's not hiding from them. He's not snooping. He's just curious and doesn't want to disturb his parents, that's all.

Maddie shifts and reaches around to grab something, and Danny is finally able to see what they're looking at, what's so exciting that it needs to be examined immediately upon returning home.

Jack is holding one of his used bandages, which is a mess of dull, dead brown, both from the dried blood and the ugly mixing of his blood and ectoplasm.

He looks up quickly when he hears Danny's quiet gasp.

Maddie breathes out "Danny." and moves to cover the evidence. The bandages are quickly taken from Jack's hand and hidden behind his mother's back.

But the damage is done.

It's three weeks after he's saved the world that he understands.


	4. Resolution

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

* * *

**Resolution**

After almost a month, it finally ends.

Danny doesn't realize he's running until he hears the door shut. It takes him a few seconds to comprehend that he is in his room. How he made it up two flights of stairs without falling, he has no idea. But he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth; he's away from his parents. That's all that matters.

His head is empty for a few seconds as he catches his breath, and a cold, numb feeling cocoons him. But then the situation hits him, and he falls back against his door and slides down until he's sitting with his knees to his chest.

Of course. _Of course._

He's such an idiot. How had he not seen it before? _That_ was why his parents hadn't been looking him in the eye for a month. They couldn't hold a civil conversation with their son because they didn't _see_ him as their son, just another experiment.

It _is_ their fault that you're half-ghost, an unhelpful voice murmurs in the back of his head.

"Danny!"

"Danny, please let us explain!"

But he ignores his parents' pleas. They want to talk _now_? After he walked in on _that_? Ha, like that was going to happen. He has no desire to look at his parents at all at the moment.

Danny sits with his back still touching the door and doesn't bother to respond.

His parents don't take the hint for almost ten minutes. And the silence of the house after they stop calling out to him is almost worse than the grating sound of their voices. It reminds him of the void that has been expanding for weeks, only now it is finally beginning to consume. It will devour everything in its path until there is nothing left, and Danny is either left alone or dead.

Danny pulls his knees closer to his chest and tries to not vomit. He wants nothing else but to run away and never come back. But he's tired of running from his problems; he needs to stand up and face them.

Because that worked _so well_ last time, the voice says.

"Shut up," Danny mutters into his legs.

A knock on the door startles him. "Danny?"

Danny lifts his head from his knees and turns his head a bit to look back at the door. "Jazz?"

She knocks again. "Can I come in?"

Danny clenches his fists at the pitying tone in her voice and turns his head away to stare across the room. He doesn't want anyone feeling sorry for him. He wants people to own up to their mistakes and apologize for everything they have ever done wrong. But he knows his parents don't see their actions as a mistake; they just feel sorry that he _caught_ them. He was never supposed to find out about their pseudo-experiments on him.

And here he'd thought that his parents had _accepted_ him. Danny scoffs into his jeans. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn't it? Now that he thinks back on it, he realizes that his parents haven't touched him since he's saved the world. Maddie had only touched him to help with his bandages.

She just wanted to steal samples. She didn't really care about helping him at all.

Danny shakes his head, but the thought has grown thick roots and can't be dislodged.

His silence seems to be answer enough, and he hears his sister sigh. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asks instead.

Our parents don't think of me as their son anymore and want to dissect me to satisfy their insatiable curiosity about ghosts. It turns out that they were only helping me replace my bandages after I got hurt saving them so that they could have some material to test because they don't want to admit that they see their own son as a science experiment.

How is he supposed to say that?

"Is everything all right in there, Danny?"

Danny scoffs. But that scoff turns into a chuckle. And soon he's throwing his head back to laugh. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs. Because everything is just fine. Everything's perfect.

* * *

Somehow, he ends up sitting at the dinner table with a plate and food before him, though he doesn't exactly remember ever agreeing to come down.

Or hearing that supper was ready, for that matter.

The void is currently gnawing at the table legs, and Danny watches absentmindedly as the entire kitchen is slowly devoured.

Jazz is looking back and forth between him and their parents, but no one else looks up from their plate of uneaten food. She opens her mouth to say something, but it dies in her throat, and, with a lost look on her face, she looks down, as well. Danny almost feels sorry for her. He would, if the emptiness wasn't lapping and curling around his legs and sucking out every emotion he could possibly experience. At the moment, he just feels weightless and numb.

Their parents don't say anything either.

Eventually, the feeling of floating in an endless abyss becomes too much, and Danny stands to take his plate of uneaten dinner to the counter. Jack and Maddie look up in fear when they see him rise, but as soon as he stares back, they quickly avert their gazes and continue to fixate on the food in front of them.

As he makes his way over to the sink, Danny can't help but notice how the shadows have grown, how they are covering more and more of the room as time goes on. Eventually, he thinks, he won't even be able to tell what's what. Everything will look like the same, dark, empty, void that he knows so well.

Turning back to make his way to the stairs and back to his room, Danny catches sight of his parents staring at him. He jerks his head away and digs his nails into his palms to refrain from saying anything that will exasperate the already morbid situation.

They stare at him like he's a puzzle, like he's something to be _solved_.

Danny grits his teeth and walks past them, ignoring their gazes burning holes into his back and head.

The sound of his bedroom door clicking shut has a haunting finality to it.

* * *

Danny doesn't go and see Sam and Tucker the next day.

He doesn't leave the house at all.

He does, however, go downstairs to breakfast and refuse to eat it.

Jazz looks more worried by the minute, and she pulls him aside after everyone has crawled awkwardly away from the table, leaving the untouched meal sitting out. The table is almost completely consumed by the void, now. Soon, there won't be any table to eat on.

"Danny," Jazz pleads, "please tell me what happened."

Danny stares down at their feet and just shakes his head. "It's nothing, Jazz." Anything he says about the unspeakable subject will only feed the ravenous abyss that is slowly but surely taking over the household and everyone inside it.

Jazz scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. "Obviously, it's something, or you and Mom and Dad would have spoken to each other already."

Anger wells up inside him and he realizes that he's grinding his teeth. Jazz can never seem to figure out when she is and isn't needed; she just assumes her butting into everyone's problems will make them all go away. Studying psychology doesn't make you helpful, Danny wants to spit out. But he keeps his mouth shut: his parents already ostracize him; he doesn't want his sister to hate him, too.

"It doesn't concern you," he snaps instead.

The intended effect is still the same, and Jazz jerks back like she's just been slapped in the face. "I'm sorry for caring, then," she huffs. Turning away, she calls over her shoulder, "Next time you have a problem, don't bother asking for my help." And then he is alone.

Well, it looks like his plan failed. Now even his sister can't stand the sight of him.

Danny feels confined by the emptiness of the room, and a hollow feeling engulfs him. He doesn't know what to do. Sam and Tucker can't help at this point, just like Jazz can't. And there's nothing he can say to his parents that could possibly fix the utter shambles their lives have become. How can he _possibly_ repair the shattered relationship with his family?

He eyes the dishes on the table and moves to collect them. Maybe cleaning things up a little is a good way to remedy the situation. He carries the plates over to the counter and takes out some Tupperware to store the food.

After he sets the food in the refrigerator, Danny turns back to the dishes and sets them in the sink before plugging up one side and turning on the water. He stares blankly as he watches black liquid rush from the tap and flood the basin. The shadows lurking under the countertop seem to reach up and point toward the sink.

Shutting off the faucet, Danny fills the water with dish soap, grabs the first plate, and dunks it in the opaque liquid. The water clings to his skin like molasses and weighs his hands down. But he ignores how dense his limbs feel now and pulls the plate back out before scrubbing it with the sponge sitting next to the sink. His mind is pleasantly blank.

The food residue comes off easily, but the dishes are stained black when Danny sets them out to dry. The shadows beneath them dance and slide down the cupboards under the counter to be swallowed by the void lapping at his feet.

After he finishes the plates, he moves on to the unused silverware. But instead of wasting time by cleaning each individual piece, Danny decides to just dump everything into the black liquid and pull them out individually to scrub them.

He's reaching down into the sink to find the last pair of forks and knives when something jabs his finger. Danny retracts his hand as quickly as possible, pulling up a handful of dark water in the process. He's cut his finger on something and blood is slowly running down the palm of his hand, chasing after the smoky liquid and mixing together with it around his wrist.

Without really thinking, Danny turns the water back on and sticks his hand underneath the flow of black. His finger goes numb immediately, and the feeling travels to his hand and up his arm. Now his body feels dead inside _and_ out. It's nice, really, compared to what he's been feeling all month.

The void is still petting his shoes, but the emptiness of his mind allows him to ignore it, and he pulls the stopper in the sink. Watching the inky substance swirl down the drain is perversely hypnotic.

After the basin is empty, he picks up the offending utensil that had hurt him. It's the only thing left to clean.

The desolate shadow is tugging at his pant legs and trying to pull its way up. Its touch leaves Danny feeling heavy and dark and empty, like the universe.

He stares down at the object in his hands, reflecting his face back at distorted angles, and wonders if it'd be worth it.

* * *

Sitting in his room, Danny is confronted with how lonely it is to not have anyone to talk to. The silence of everyone avoiding the fire in the room is maddening, and Danny crosses his arms and digs his nails into his skin to keep from screaming.

Would it be worth it?

The question floats around the room, swimming in the dark abyss creeping under the door and sliding along his arms.

Danny sighs and falls backward until he's lying on his bed.

His parents haven't spoken a word to him all day, and it's nearing suppertime now. Maybe they think he'll go away if they ignore him enough. Danny knows he certainly feels like running off.

But then that would mean that they would lose their science experiment. Surely they don't want that. Then again, his parents probably think he's ruined at this point, self-destructive tendencies of curiosity and whatnot. This whole thing is his fault.

He should have never gone into the basement.

The shadows have reached his bed, and Danny realizes that most of his room has been consumed by blackness. He can barely make out the dim light from the hallway cowering under his door. The question still hovers nearby, unaffected by the void engulfing everything in sight.

Would it be worth it?

Yes, he decides. It would.

* * *

When his parents are out running errands, Danny slinks into the basement.

As soon as he is down the stairs, he focuses on the examination table in the center of the room and can't seem to tear his gaze away from it. The bottles of liquid and scalpels still sit atop it, outlined in the glowing light of the portal. His parents haven't even bothered to remove his old bandages. In fact, it looks like they have cut some pieces off and begun running tests on them. Figures that not even having their son discover their secret desires would deter them from experimenting.

He pads quietly over and smiles.

He knows exactly what he's going to do.

* * *

When his parents come home, Danny is just barely managing to keep himself awake. He truly only realizes that they have returned when he hears them stop short with a shocked gasp once they catch sight of him.

Danny looks up in a dazed confusion and laughs brokenly through his tears when his eyes focus on their ruined expressions. He's extremely lightheaded now, and can't completely distinguish his parents' faces anymore. The whole room began doing backflips a long time ago, anyway. He's surprised he hasn't thrown up yet. Through the fog in his head he wonders what he must look like, sitting in a pool of his own innards and surrounded by containers that hold even more. He can feel the blood and ectoplasm soaking into his jeans.

"Oh, my—Danny!" his mother screams, racing towards him and dropping to her knees.

You'll stain your suit, Danny thinks absentmindedly. But he can't seem to put the words in his mouth.

Jack is kneeling now, too. He's pulled out the gauze and paper towels that they keep under the examination table, and he and Maddie begin attempting to clean up the mess he's made. But Danny knows it's no use. He's lost too much ectoplasm-infused blood to help stop the bleeding. If his arms weren't so heavy and being held and wrapped by his parents, he might try and find another vial to fill. It's the only useful thing he can do, anyway.

"Danny, Danny, Danny," his mother sobs next to him. She says his name like a mantra.

This is your fault, he wants to say. But he knows that's not really true: he's the one who told them his secret. He should have known this would happen. If he hadn't told his parents he was Danny Phantom, they would still love him.

"Danny, you'll be okay. Just stay with us," his father urges. He's still struggling to try and get the blood flow under control.

Danny's eyelids are growing heavy, and the void is caressing him. He just wants to sleep. At least he was able to supply his parents with some blood to test and experiment on. Maybe now they'll forgive him.

He's drifting off now. But Danny feels like he should at least say something to explain his behavior. He can't have his parents go blaming themselves for failing a test they didn't know they were taking.

"Do you love me now?" he breathes.

Danny hears his mother sob, but the world falls away beneath him before he can answer.

After almost a month, it finally ends.


	5. The End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Danny Phantom. All characters go to their respectful owners. I only own this story.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This is the second version of Chapter 4: Resolution.

* * *

**Trigger Warning:** This chapter contains graphic depiction of violent fantasies, self-inflicted injuries, and suicidal thoughts.

* * *

**The End**

After almost a month, it finally ends.

Danny doesn't realize he's running until he hears the door shut. It takes him a few seconds to comprehend that he is in his room. How he made it up two flights of stairs without falling, he has no idea. But he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth; he's away from his parents. That's all that matters.

His head is empty for a few seconds as he catches his breath, and a cold, numb feeling cocoons him. But then the situation hits him, and he falls back against his door and slides down until he's sitting with his knees to his chest.

Of course. _Of course._

He's such an idiot. How had he not seen it before? _That_ was why his parents hadn't been looking him in the eye for a month. They couldn't hold a civil conversation with their son because they didn't _see_ him as their son, just another experiment, something to carve into and harvest for research.

It _is_ their fault that you're half-ghost, an unhelpful voice murmurs in the back of his head.

"Danny!"

"Danny, please let us explain!"

But he ignores his parents' pleas. They want to talk _now_? After he walked in on _that_? Ha, like that was going to happen. He has no desire to look at his parents at all at the moment.

Danny sits with his back still touching the door and doesn't bother to respond.

His parents don't take the hint for almost ten minutes. And the silence of the house after they stop calling out to him is almost worse than the grating sound of their voices. It reminds him of the void that has been expanding for weeks, only now it is finally beginning to consume. It will devour everything in its path until there is nothing left, and Danny is either left alone or dead.

Danny pulls his knees closer to his chest and tries to not vomit. He wants nothing else but to run away and never come back. But he's tired of running from his problems; he needs to stand up and face them.

Because that worked _so well_ last time, the voice says.

"Shut up," Danny mutters into his legs.

A knock on the door startles him. "Danny?"

Danny lifts his head from his knees and turns his head a bit to look back at the door. "Jazz?"

She knocks again. "Can I come in?"

Danny clenches his fists at the pitying tone in her voice, nails leaving painful half-cresents in his palms. He turns his head away to stare across the room. He doesn't want anyone feeling sorry for him. He wants people to own up to their mistakes and apologize for everything they have ever done wrong, to suffer just as much as he has for the past month. But he knows his parents don't see their actions as a mistake; they just feel sorry that he _caught_ them. He was never supposed to find out about their pseudo-experiments on him.

And here he'd thought that his parents had _accepted_ him. Danny scoffs into his jeans. But hindsight is twenty-twenty, isn't it? Now that he thinks back on it, he realizes that his parents haven't touched him since he's saved the world. Maddie had only touched him to help with his bandages.

She just wanted to steal samples. She didn't really care about helping him at all.

Danny shakes his head, but the thought has grown thick roots and can't be dislodged.

His silence seems to be answer enough, and he hears his sister sigh. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asks instead.

Our parents don't think of me as their son anymore and want to dissect me to satisfy their insatiable curiosity about ghosts. They want to tear open my chest and rip out my beating heart to see that it isn't a fluke. It turns out that they were only helping me replace my bandages after I got hurt saving them so that they could have some material to test because they don't want to admit that they see their own son as a science experiment.

How is he supposed to say that?

"Is everything all right in there, Danny?"

Danny scoffs. But that scoff turns into a chuckle. And soon he's throwing his head back to laugh. He laughs and he laughs and he laughs. Because everything is just fine. Everything's perfect.

* * *

Somehow, he ends up sitting at the dinner table with a plate and food before him, though he doesn't exactly remember ever agreeing to come down.

Or hearing that supper was ready, for that matter.

The void is currently gnawing at the table legs, and Danny watches absentmindedly as the entire kitchen is slowly devoured.

Jazz is looking back and forth between him and their parents, but no one else looks up from their plate of uneaten food. She opens her mouth to say something, but it dies in her throat, and, with a lost look on her face, she looks down, as well. Danny almost feels sorry for her. He would, if the emptiness wasn't lapping and curling around his legs and sucking out every emotion he could possibly experience. At the moment, he just feels weightless and numb.

Their parents don't say anything either.

Danny wants to stab them with his fork just so they'll say something to him again. Anything. Even if it's just their admittance that they hate him. It's not really a secret now, anyway.

Eventually, the feeling of floating in an endless abyss becomes too much, and Danny stands to take his plate of uneaten dinner to the counter. Jack and Maddie look up in fear when they see him rise, but as soon as he stares back, they quickly avert their gazes and continue to fixate on the food in front of them.

In his mind they're screaming as he jams his knife in their eyes.

Danny turns away with a shake of his head.

As he makes his way over to the sink, Danny can't help but notice how the shadows have grown, how they are covering more and more of the room as time goes on. Eventually, he thinks, he won't even be able to tell what's what. Everything will look like the same, dark, empty, void that he knows so well.

Turning back to make his way to the stairs and back to his room, Danny catches sight of his parents staring at him. He jerks his head away and digs his nails painfully into his palms to refrain from saying anything that will exasperate the already morbid situation.

They stare at him like he's a puzzle, like he's something to be _solved_.

Danny grits his teeth and walks past them, ignoring their gazes burning holes into his back and head.

The sound of his bedroom door clicking shut has a haunting finality to it.

* * *

Danny doesn't go and see Sam and Tucker the next day.

He doesn't leave the house at all.

He does, however, go downstairs to breakfast and refuse to eat it.

Jazz looks more worried by the minute, and she pulls him aside after everyone has crawled awkwardly away from the table, leaving the untouched meal sitting out. The table is almost completely consumed by the void, now. Soon, there won't be any table to eat on.

"Danny," Jazz pleads, "please tell me what happened."

Danny stares down at their feet and just shakes his head. "It's nothing, Jazz." Anything he says about the unspeakable subject will only feed the ravenous abyss that is slowly but surely taking over the household and everyone inside it.

Jazz scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. "Obviously, it's something, or you and Mom and Dad would have spoken to each other already."

Anger wells up inside him and he realizes that he's grinding his teeth. Jazz can never seem to figure out when she is and isn't needed; she just assumes her butting into everyone's problems will make them all go away. Studying psychology doesn't make you helpful, Danny wants to spit out. But he keeps his mouth shut: his parents already ostracize him; he doesn't want his sister to hate him, too.

"It doesn't concern you," he snaps instead.

The intended effect is still the same, and Jazz jerks back like she's just been slapped in the face. "I'm sorry for caring, then," she huffs. Turning away, she calls over her shoulder, "Next time you have a problem, don't bother asking for my help." And then he is alone.

Well, it looks like his plan failed. Now even his sister can't stand the sight of him.

If only he had stabbed himself in the eyes last night at dinner. It would have been a preemptive punishment, but a deserving punishment all the same.

Danny feels confined by the emptiness of the room, and a hollow feeling engulfs him. He doesn't know what to do. Sam and Tucker can't help at this point, just like Jazz can't. And there's nothing he can say to his parents that could possibly fix the utter shambles their lives have become. How can he _possibly_ repair the shattered relationship with his family?

He eyes the dishes on the table and moves to collect them, forcing himself to not intentionally grab the knives by the blades and carve into the meat of his palm. Maybe cleaning things up a little is a good way to remedy the situation. He carries the plates over to the counter and takes out some Tupperware to store the food.

After he sets the food in the refrigerator, Danny turns back to the dishes and sets them in the sink before plugging up one side and turning on the water. He stares blankly as he watches black liquid rush from the tap and flood the basin. The shadows lurking under the countertop seem to reach up and point toward the sink.

Shutting off the faucet, Danny fills the water with dish soap, grabs the first plate, and dunks it in the opaque liquid. The water clings to his skin like molasses and weighs his hands down. But he ignores how dense his limbs feel now and pulls the plate back out before scrubbing it with the sponge sitting next to the sink. His mind is pleasantly blank.

The food residue comes off easily, but the dishes are stained black when Danny sets them out to dry. The shadows beneath them dance and slide down the cupboards under the counter to be swallowed by the void lapping at his feet.

After he finishes the plates, he moves on to the unused silverware. But instead of wasting time by cleaning each individual piece, Danny decides to just dump everything into the black liquid and pull them out individually to scrub them.

He's reaching down into the sink to find the last pair of forks and knives when something jabs his finger. Danny feels a jolt of satisfaction, and has to remind himself after a few seconds that he needs to look at his hand to see what's happened to it. After relishing the pain for a final moment, he does, pulling up a handful of dark water in the process. He's cut his finger on one of the utensils, and blood is slowly running down the palm of his hand, chasing after the black liquid and mixing together with it around his wrist. Morbidly, Danny thinks that it looks like he's been put in smoky handcuffs and has rubbed his wrist raw trying to escape.

Without really thinking, Danny turns the water back on and sticks his finger underneath the flow of black. It goes numb immediately, and the feeling travels to his hand and up his arm. Now his body feels dead inside _and_ out. It's nice, really, compared to what he's been feeling all month.

The void is still petting his shoes, but the emptiness of his mind allows him to ignore it, and he pulls the stopper in the sink. Watching the inky substance swirl down the drain is perversely hypnotic.

After the basin is empty, he picks up the offending utensil that had hurt him. It's the only thing left to clean.

The desolate shadow is tugging at his pant legs and trying to pull its way up. Its touch leaves Danny feeling heavy and dark and empty, like the universe.

He stares down at the object in his hands, reflecting his face back at distorted angles, and wonders if it'd be worth it.

* * *

Sitting in his room, Danny is confronted with how lonely it is to not have anyone to talk to. The silence of everyone avoiding the fire in the room is maddening, and Danny crosses his arms and digs his nails into his skin to keep from screaming.

Would it be worth it?

The question floats around the room, swimming in the dark abyss creeping under the door and sliding along his arms.

He can feel blood on his fingers.

Danny sighs and releases the death grip on his arms, letting himself fall backward until he's lying on the bed.

His parents haven't spoken a word to him all day, and it's nearing suppertime now. Maybe they think he'll go away if they ignore him enough. Danny knows he certainly feels like running off.

But then that would mean that they would lose their science experiment. Surely they don't want that. Then again, his parents probably think he's ruined at this point, self-destructive tendencies of curiosity and whatnot. This whole thing is his fault.

He should have never gone into the basement.

The shadows have reached his bed, and Danny realizes that most of his room has been consumed by blackness. He can barely make out the dim light from the hallway cowering under his door. The question still hovers nearby, unaffected by the void engulfing everything in sight. It feels strangely fitting; and Danny would like nothing more than to sink into the veil and leave everything behind.

Would it be worth it?

Yes, he decides. It would.

* * *

When his parents are out running errands, Danny slinks into the basement.

As soon as he is down the stairs, he focuses on the examination table in the center of the room and can't seem to tear his gaze away from it. The bottles of liquid and scalpels still sit atop it, outlined in the glowing light of the portal. His parents haven't even bothered to remove his old bandages. In fact, it looks like they have cut some pieces off and begun running tests on them. Figures that not even having their son discover their secret desires would deter them from experimenting.

He pads quietly over and smiles.

He knows exactly what he's going to do.

His hand isn't shaking anymore, Danny realizes, as he reaches for one of the empty vials to open. The hopelessness that he has been feeling all month is gone, replaced instead with what he has come to know as his battle-calm. He is not afraid. He is ready. He is at peace.

Danny stares transfixed at a scalpel lying on the table and takes it into his hands. The glow from the Ghost Zone illuminates his face in eerie ways; and the distorted appearance of his exterior from the knife only intensifies the horrific look.

Danny takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before plunging the blade into his wrist. The sudden sharp pain tears an agonized cry from him and his eyes snap open. Looking down, he blinks through the tears now running down his cheeks and watches with a disjointed fascination as his life flow gushes out and creates rivulets down his forearm, the green flecks in the blood catching the light.

After a few seconds, Danny catches himself staring and hurries to pull the open vial over and hold it beneath his arm to catch the drips. Around him, time seems to come to a stuttering halt.

The container is a quarter of the way full when the dripping stops, and Danny realizes that his blood has clotted up around the cut, only healing faster because of his ectoplasm.

That frozen calm that has become like a second skin to him evaporates as rage and frustration consume him. The basement bleeds red. It's always his stupid ghost-side. If he weren't Phantom he wouldn't be in the situation. Danny picks up the scalpel again from where it had fallen when he had dropped it as the first pain tore through him and plunges it into his arm once more.

He carves pictures on his forearms and biceps, writing curses and apologies that he can't say out loud. He wants to scream, but he knows it won't do any good; nothing can fix this situation now. He might as well just sacrifice what little usable parts he has left.

His parents can have what they're too afraid to ask for, and he can finally submit to the endless chasm that has completely swallowed him. His arms are still stained black, and Danny knows it'll never come out. Now they're being stained red and green, too.

The vial is full now.

Danny picks up another and reopens the wound, digging even deeper, even though he knows he's already severed too many veins. Most of the blood isn't even making it into the container beneath his arm. The majority of it is dripping down into his lap and onto the basement floor. He's only filled one vial and a small puddle already surrounds him. The warm liquid is a sharp juxtaposition to the icy void caressing his back and the frozen ground beneath his legs.

The second vial is full now, too.

A shudder tears through him, but he doesn't stop. There are still three empty flasks sitting next to him; his job is far from finished. Danny grabs a third bottle and holds it under his arm.

It seems like he's running out of blood in his left arm, so Danny returns the scalpel to his left hand and impales his right arm with it. He makes sure to carve deep enough this time that it will be impossible for his ectoplasm-infused blood to heal fast enough. The faster this ordeal is over the better, Danny thinks, even as the void whispers that he deserves to suffer much more than he is now.

It's almost impossible to lift the fourth vial after the third one in full. His arms are so heavy: they feel as though they have been encased in lead. And Danny can't tell if it's his tears flooding his eyes and racing down his face to mix with the blood on the floor or the massive blood loss that his making the room spin so much. Danny closes his eyes. A nap sounds particularly nice at the moment. He shakes his head and forces himself to keep his eyes open. There's still an empty bottle to be filled; and the fourth one is only half-full. He'll rest later. It's not like his parents are going to allow him to finish once they return home.

The blood is barely oozing out of his arm anymore, and carving into his skin and muscle isn't doing much now. Maybe he should slice into his legs next, or perhaps go straight for the source and just stab his jugular. That would probably fill a lot of vials really quickly.

Danny feels so detached from his body after he's finished filling the fourth bottle that he almost doesn't hear the front door open or his parents coming down the stairs. But even with how far he's gone, he can still make out the shocked gasps of his parents when they catch sight of him.

Danny looks up in a dazed confusion and laughs brokenly through his tears when his eyes focus on their ruined expressions. He's extremely lightheaded now, and can't completely distinguish his parents' faces anymore. The whole room began doing backflips a long time ago, anyway. He's surprised he hasn't thrown up yet. Through the fog in his head he wonders what he must look like, sitting in a pool of his own innards and surrounded by containers that hold even more. He can feel the blood and ectoplasm soaking into his jeans: his arms are practically shredded at this point.

"Oh, my—Danny!" his mother screams, racing towards him and dropping to her knees.

You'll stain your suit, Danny thinks absentmindedly. But he can't seem to put the words in his mouth.

Jack is kneeling now, too. He's pulled out the gauze and paper towels that they keep under the examination table, and he and Maddie begin attempting to stem the blood flow. But Danny knows it's no use. He's lost too much ectoplasm-infused blood to help clot up the gaping incisions. If his arms weren't so heavy and being held and wrapped by his parents, he might try and find another vial to fill. It's the only useful thing he can do, anyway.

"Danny, Danny, Danny," his mother sobs next to him. She says his name like a mantra.

This is your fault, he wants to say. But he knows that's not really true: he's the one who told them his secret. He should have known this would happen. If he hadn't told his parents he was Danny Phantom, they would still love him.

"Danny, you'll be okay. Just stay with us," his father urges. He's still trying to get the blood flow under control.

Now you know how I feel, Danny thinks.

Looks like he found a way to make them suffer as much as he has.

Danny's eyelids are growing heavy, and the void is caressing him. He just wants to sleep. At least he was able to supply his parents with some blood to test and experiment on. Maybe now they'll forgive him.

That doesn't mean he forgives them, though. Not by a long shot. Love is a double-edged sword; and he's gone and stabbed his parents through the chest with it. It's the least he can do, since they did it to him first.

He's drifting off now. But Danny feels like he should at least say something to explain his behavior. He can't have his parents go blaming themselves for failing a test they didn't even know they were taking.

"Do you love me now?" he breathes.

Danny hears his mother sob, but the world falls away beneath him before he can answer.

After almost a month, it finally ends.


End file.
